


The Weather Has No Respect for Artistic Intentions

by SeafoamPetals



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Family, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Slice of Life, i didn't intend for this to become light hurt/comfort but here we are bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeafoamPetals/pseuds/SeafoamPetals
Summary: This wouldn’t be a tag for inside the lair, no no, Michelangelo had been staking out an abandoned convenience store. Its back wall was a perfect blank canvas waiting to be brightened up. His idea was actually bordering on something closer to a mural than his usual tags, but all the same it was street art.





	The Weather Has No Respect for Artistic Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> More focused (maybe?) than my last fic, Mikey is relatable to me as someone who's also the youngest and is a sensitive artist so uh, oops, guess I'm projecting a little. I love these boys a lot, RotTMNT is giving me the strength while I suffer at college.

Mikey put on his headphones and turned up his music as he went back to drawing. In the background Leo and Donnie were arguing about whether or not the infamous actor and director, Tommy Wiseau, was possibly a mutant. Leo was firmly in the camp that he was while Donnie, full of disgust at the concept, battled back against this. Mikey had originally been listening intently to the argument and occasionally chimed in with an idea that could contribute to either side of his brothers. However the fun turned exhausting as the argument had now been going for over an hour. The voices of his brothers began morphing into one overwhelming sound, keeping up with anything either of them were saying was impossible. The lo-fi ‘chill beats’ playlist recentered him. He picked up a colored pencil labeled forest green and worked on shading.

He had been working on a preliminary sketch for a new tag all day and was finally settling on a design that reflected the vision in his head. A stylized hybrid between a turtle and a Japanese dragon curved across the sketchbook’s page. The creature was set to pond of lily pads for a background, its mouth breathed out fire that formed the word “Cowabunga”. This wouldn’t be a tag for inside the lair, no no, Michelangelo had been staking out an abandoned convenience store. Its back wall was a perfect blank canvas waiting to be brightened up. His idea was actually bordering on something closer to a mural than his usual tags, but all the same it was street art. The dark green gave volume to the dragon-turtle’s form as he applied it over the top of the layers he had set down earlier. He couldn’t help but get detailed with the concept art for his tags, he kept a neat portfolio of his favorite ones. Spray paint was ultimately his favorite medium though, it was unappreciated in the art world, viewed unfairly as lowbrow. This only served to make the young turtle curious as to how he could push the limits of the medium. Besides, ‘lowbrow’ art was usually more fun anyways.

“No more, this conversation is the worst! I’ll see you in 10 hours after I’ve made a 200 slide powerpoint presentation as to why you’re wrong!” Donnie stormed out of the room with a sigh so exasperated it could probably count to a world record. Mikey had caught this final exchange while one song faded out, he snorted to suppress a laugh at his brother’s dramatics. Leo flopped down on the couch next to him, the red-eared slider grinning wide at his little brother. He took off his headphones and paused his music ready for whatever bad jokes were sure to come.

“Poor guy just can’t handle the truth, I’m on some galaxy brain level shit that Don could only ever hope to be on. I am looking forward to how he’s going to fill up 200 slides of a presentation though,” Leo said putting his feet up, one on the media room’s coffee table, the other on the couch cushion to take up as much real estate as possible without completely getting into Mikey’s personal space. 

“Knowing him he’ll probably make it 250 slides,” Mikey wheezed, twirling around his pencil in his fingers while Leon gave a snorty laugh “It’ll be complete with at least 5 subject changes, too.”

Leonardo opened his mouth to continue poking fun at Donatello, but his eyes caught the slightest glimpse of what his little brother was working on. He propped himself up on the couch cushions and began leaning into Michael's space to get a better look.

“Heeeey watcha’ got there My-Kale-and-Jello?”

“It’s not done, no looking!” Mikey held his sketchbook close to his plastron and stuck out his tongue “You, along with Raph, Donnie, April, and Dad can see it once it’s painted up on a wall. Respect the artists intentions please.”

“Ugh artists intentions my ass, thats boring, well at least it’ll up in the lair soon right?”

“Nooooooo actually I’ve been scoping out somewhere to have it in the city.”

“Oh, so who knows when any of us will actually get to see it then.”

“Hm?”

“You do know it’s going to be rainy for like the next week or so. Right?”

“I… I didn’t know that actually.” He swore internally, can’t get in trouble for that. He had been badly wanting to get this one up as soon as possible. His fingers had been itching to get this design out as soon as he got the idea. The thought that he might have to wait over a week, maybe two, until he’d get a chance to properly paint his dragon-turtle was agonizing.

Leo watched as his brother slide down the couch cushions until he was on the floor. He took the sketchbook out of his brothers hands and, without looking, closed it up. He placed it gently on the coffee table and watched as Mikey was slowly, most likely without realizing it, beginning to retract into his shell. Shit, he needed to think fast or else Mikey wasn’t going to come out for hours.

“Hey bud, hey pal, hey bro? This isn’t the end of the world, not your fault the weather has no respect for artistic intentions.” Mikey was still receding, and Leo felt a slight panic. Raphael was better suited for this, being light hearted and jokey only got Leo so far. Deep down, real deal, negative emotions was not something he could tackle easily. He hesitated, but put a hand on his brother’s shell, hoping that that was the right thing to do.

He was about half in his shell, feeling his mind buzz. This wasn’t something he could control, but somehow that only served to make it all feel worse. A slim, three fingered hand, gently rubbed over his shell. This wasn’t something to get overworked about, and yet this sort of feeling happened more than he liked. Words failed to let him convey why these sorts of things ended up becoming such a big deal. That’s why he was a visual person, he made pictures to fill in his ideas when his words tumbled out as rambling, tangled strings. He was thankful that being sensitive worked well as the silently accepted explanation for these mood crashes. Leo was sitting next to him now, their shells at the foot of the couch, squashed between it and the coffee table. Mikey wasn’t even crying or sniffling, so an unusual quiet settled over the media room. It was hardly ever quiet, even if only one turtle was in it. Even with how deep underground they were, he swore he could hear the beginnings of rainfall on the surface above.

Leo reached for the TV remote with his other hand, turned on the tv, and began flipping through channels. Mikey had pulled himself out of his shell and began sorting through his colored pencils, putting them back in their carrying case where they were sorted conveniently in rainbow order. With his art supplies put away he began rhythmically patting his hands on his knees to keep them occupied. He watched Leo settle on reruns of Star Trek: Next Generation, yeah, this was fine. 

At some point in time, Raph had come into the room. His two younger brothers looked at him, and mirrored the quizzical look he had.

“Y’all know you can sit on couches… right?” One large clawed finger pointed at the cushions of their well worn couch and then to where they were sitting in front of it.

“Sometimes you just gotta sit on the floor,” Leo said with no further explanation. Raph looked over Mikey who was back to watching the TV. The tired, neutral expression was enough to clue the oldest into what was going on. He sat next the Leo, grunting as his knees bumped the coffee table.

“Mikey looks like he’ll fall asleep soon, I’ll get him back to his room when he does.” Raph whispered to Leo, though Mikey could still heard. He was fine with this, his eyes were getting heavier, he wasn’t interested in walking to his room. A free lift was a free lift, he never turned that down.

Somewhere rain was falling on a neglected convenience store, dampening an ideal work surface and dripping down a moss covered roof in large cold globs. Maybe he’ll settle on finding a good wall in the sewers to paint his dragon-turtle on, but his intentions were that more than just his family would get to see it. His eyes were getting as heavy as the rain he imagined falling outside, but it was warm down here. The TV buzzed at a low volume the dramatics of a star fleet crew. 

The last thing he heard before sleep fell over him was Raph whispering to Leo.

“So… tell me about this theory that Tommy Wiseau’s a mutant.”

Mikey smiled, there’d be enough to keep him occupied until the weather came around to his side.


End file.
